


Burn the VVitch

by luna_trancy



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Demon AU, Happy Halloween, Lots of Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Rimming, Witch AU, devil au, have i mentioned fingering?, inspired by the vvitch, messy cum makeouts, or should i say hornyween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_trancy/pseuds/luna_trancy
Summary: After being accused of witchcraft and exiled, Piers tries his best to make a life for him and his sister.  A life in the harsh wilds with no hope of surviving the winter.Until a fateful moonlit night and an encounter that will give him everything.Burn, or live deliciously?**Witch + Demon Au**
Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers
Comments: 11
Kudos: 152





	Burn the VVitch

**Author's Note:**

> A spicy Halloween fic for spooky season inspired by the movie The VVitch. Just...nsfw. Mostly nsfw. I'm really sorry in advance for typos.
> 
> CW: a horse gets hurt but it's brief and ends up fine I promise
> 
> EDIT: Now with art! I wanted to do this sooner but I did a fast Piers piece to go along with this  
> https://twitter.com/porgatine/status/1322719221588045825

_Leave, the judge boomed in the courthouse, for your crimes are unforgivable!_

_  
What crime have I committed?_

_  
You know your wrongdoings. Leave, and take your sister with you, for she will no doubt be as corrupt as you!_

_  
He turned, searching for comfort from his parents. At the very least, to save her. But when he saw their faces in the crowd, they were stone. Silent. Dismissive._

_  
M-Ma_ _…Pa?_

_  
We have no part in their…sins._

_  
It is settled, the judge’s final words rang as clear as a bell._

_  
P-Please…she’s innocent—_

_  
You are both guilty. Remain and face punishment, or leave to the wilds and take your filth from Wyndon._

_  
Burn the witch! Someone cried, and soon, others followed. Burn the witch!_

_  
All faces, all angry, even their own parents, chanting and spitting_ _and pointing_ _._

_  
Burn the witch!_  
  
  
Winds swept over the expanse of field as Piers carried the last of the firewood to the little cottage. It was a basic space, just a room inside with a roof on top and four walls. It had a hearth where a cold pot sat empty unless Marnie managed to scrounge up something.

  
They’d been careful with their rations, but even that hadn’t been enough.

  
And their sickly animals wouldn’t provide much of anything.

  
“Marnie!” Piers called, pushing open the door. Inside were two beds, made on wobbly legs with quilts they’d had back home. If they could even call it home. 

  
The town of Wyndon felt ages away. It was the only place they’d known, besides the harsh wild area now. He didn’t think they’d know it for much longer. Winter would soon come, and he’d been unprepared to be expelled from the town.

  
All because of shadow puppets. Well, shadow puppets and letting Judge Rose fuck him for extra bread and coin. But witchcraft had been a much easier sentence than that truth.

  
He sat down the logs. “Marnie?”

  
He heard the sudden rush of feet from outside, then the slow groan of animal pain. Piers ran outside, just as Marnie came around to meet him.

  
“What are ya—”

  
“Old Phil!” she cried, her eyes red. “He’s…I dunno what’s wrong with ‘em!”

  
They ran back around together, to the measly barn. It was barely a shelter, with as much hay they could find and a wobbly fence around the edges. The thinned horse stood on stick legs, trotting towards whatever dry grass it could eat and the chickens…they were bone, not even feather.

  
Marnie knelt at the ram, lying on his side. He’d seen much better days.

  
“Oh, please don’t,” Piers whispered, stroking black ears. The ram was as old as he, if not older, and had seen better days. Traveling out to nowhere had been hard on him. Sparse food had been harder. His old bones didn’t work as hard and he grew frail. Perhaps, Old Phil simply fed off Piers’s despair and hopelessness.

  
Perhaps, he wanted to escape before winter fell and their cottage was covered in snow and corpses.

  
Piers dropped his head. He wanted to weep, but doing it in front of his sister would only confirm her fears. He couldn’t do that to her.

  
“I’m gonna to ride into town,” he said, “and see if…they’ll help.”

  
Marnie shook her head. “You know they won’t, so dontcha bother. Ma and pa…”

  
He knew what she would say. They had the same thought. Their parents had abandoned them and cast them into the Wild Area, to die with their cursed animals. It was harsh, but the truth.

  
“I have to try,” Piers said. “Otherwise…”  
  
~~  
  
The next morning, Piers packed and saddled up the horse, Spec. Mostly with what firewood he could spare and with coin and silver pieces he’d stashed away before leaving. Spec could barely carry that, expecting to ride him would send the horse into an earlier grave.

  
He didn’t really expect to get much for his wares but at the very least—

  
“Promise ya won’t marry me off to some lord.” Marnie’s request was simple and it hurt that she knew his plans.

  
“How about Hop, at least?” Piers asked with a weak smile. “He’s your age.”

  
Marnie looked broken. Hop was a nice young man, and he came from a wealthy family. She’d be safe and protected. He doubted it would happen, no one wanted an accused witch to marry their son but fuck the family’s name. Piers had to try.

  
“I’m not leavin’ ya out here to die alone,” she whispered, squeezing his hand as if sealing that promise.

  
Piers hugged her tight. Admitting how relieved he was felt wrong. He didn’t want to die alone in the wilds, from either hunger or frostbite. And it was selfish to drag her down with him and he knew it. What horrible sort of brother she was cursed with.

  
“Thank you,” he finally said. For giving up everything, he kept to himself.

  
The road back to Wyndon would take nearly half the day. If he made haste, quickly found someone in Wyndon to take pity on him and sell to him, he could get back a little after dark. It was a full moon, so he’d have light on the last part of his journey. He didn’t fear the dark itself, nor getting lost.

  
He only feared what lurked in the Wild Area after the sun fell.

~~  
  
When he finally reached the walled city of Wyndon, he leaned against Spec. His calves burned and his shoulders slumped, but Spec was weaker. The horse’s panting concerned him. The return trip looked grim.

  
Piers stared at the gates, dropping the Spec’s reins and approaching the guards. Just as the town’s gates opened.

  
Though not to him.

  
A small group of riders sat on their horses. Their muscular horses, filled with vitality that felt like a slap in the face. But the real kick in the gut was Judge Rose leading the hunting party.

  
The horses came to a cautious halt. One man raised his musket and the rest of the color in Piers’s face drained from his cheeks. He knew that man excessively well. They shared the same blue eyes, same as Marnie. But Rose held up a hand.

  
“What brings the banished witch back to Wyndon?” Rose said. “Would being burned at the stake warm your bones?”

  
The other hunters laughed at the triumphant joke. Piers gripped his thinned shawl. He looked away from his father and the cocked musket, lowered now but still a painful reminder of how much he wasn't wanted. “I don’t want trouble. I’m just tryna trade.”

  
“And what things of value would a witch have for trade?” Rose said, with that condescending tone. Piers knit his brows.

  
“You would know.”

  
The quip made Rose grow stiff, receive a few curious glances. 

  
“I have been forgiven for my sins,” Rose said, “since I was under a spell.”

  
A spell. Sure. Piers hadn’t made the offer but Rose had been fast to push it on him. But sharing that wouldn’t undo the damage. And it wouldn't get him inside.  
“May I have permission to enter?” Piers said through his teeth. “Please?”

  
Rose looked around at his hunting team and raised a hand. Piers father handed over his prepared musket.

So he wouldn't pull the trigger himself but it didn't bother him to see Piers fall. 

  
“It is my duty to protect this town from outsiders and devil worshipers,” Rose evenly replied. “And you currently meet both those requirements. I suggest—highly suggest—you leave.”

  
Piers reached behind him, to grab the reigns and his fingers fumbled on air before touching the worn leather. He’d come so far…

  
“Sir…,” Piers whispered, “please, my sister—”

  
“Ah, yes, Marnie,” Rose sighed. “She’s of marrying age now, isn’t she?”

  
Yes. Yes and hope glimmered in her despair, kept him going. Gave him something to hold on to.

  
“I would take her myself but I don’t want to tarnish my good family name,” Rose said. “I do appreciate the offer.”

  
Piers pulled on the reigns, biting back his tongue. He desperately wanted to tear Rose apart but that musket only needed one good shot to put him down. And his own father...that stopped being a surprise a long time ago. He turned, to leave, and heard the cold click and fire of metal.

  
Spec whinnied in pain, collapsing on the ground with a thud. Barely a thud, the poor horse was so thin. Logs and silver spilled from the satchels as old Spec took his final breaths. 

  
Piers grabbed at his hair, falling to his knees. Pain shot through his legs like lightning in the sky, hitting every part of his body. He placed his hands on his horse, stroked his frayed mane and muttered a prayer. A spell. Whichever, they felt the same and whatever deity listened, he would take it.

  
“The witch is not a good one if he can’t even resurrect his beast.” Rose laughed, the men laughed, his father laughed the hardest.

  
Piers clenched his fists when Spec stopped moving, to rise to his feet and turn with such violence, the men paused for a moment as a chilling wind swept the field.

  
He didn’t know what to say. He wished he had curses to lay on them. Plagues to wipe their crops, to make them frail and weak. Turn them into toads. Set them on fire. Call him a witch, why not reap the benefits of the insult.

  
Instead he felt weak. Helpless. Not even a horse to bring back home. He'd never make it before sundown.

  
“Leave the silver behind,” Rose instructed. “It’s best that you be on your way.”

  
And not even his silver, to barter for a life for Marnie.  
  
~~  
  
Home felt impossible. Home being their cottage in the woods. The sun set too fast and while he knew the way, the air grew cold. The trees twisted around him, from gentle landmarks to cruel effigies. In the distance, a wolf howled to its brothers, and they howled back.

  
If the wolves didn’t eat him, the winter’s night chill may.

  
But the moon shone beautiful, as a weak consolation prize. Silver moonlight that lit his path through the dead trees. Darkness crept close to him, a cold embrace of mystery that he had no reason to fear.

Darkness favored witches, after all. 

  
He’d lost his money. His horse. The extra firewood. The old pastors in Wyndon so often taught of trials, walking through fire, but did that courtesy extend itself to witches, real or accused?

  
Or was it all a pretty lie with hymns to grab the money of the desperate?

  
His parents had been desperate. Enough to turn their backs on him, but mainly on Marnie. And as much as he wanted to forgive them, he kept asking himself why.

  
For giving him life, forcing him into their molds of perfection just to toss him out and stare at him down the barrel of a gun when he needed help?

  
Piers came to a clearing, gazing at the moon. Dead tree branches reached towards that silver light, yearning to touch.

  
A wind suddenly whipped through the clearing, crawling under Piers’s ragged cloak. Leaves clung to his hair and by the time he’d pushed it from his face, and let his eyes adjust again, he saw before him a figure.

  
A tall figure. Cloaked and waiting to be seen. 

  
The chilling fear that tore through Piers’s body almost made him sob. Death or the Devil, he didn’t know which, only that his end ticked closer with each breath.

  
“W-What do ya want?” Piers managed to rasp. His voice was dry from breathing in the cold air, so much that he no longer spoke puffs of breath in front of his lips.

  
The figure moved closer, moonlight streaming against their cloak like liquid metal. Each step graceful, too much to be human.

  
“You look cold.” That voice came deep, smooth like silk, and rich. “Let me be of some use to you.”

  
At first, Piers wanted to protest. He’d heard of encounters with devils in the wilds, who offered hospitality until time came to devour your soul. And he’d wondered how anyone could say yes until the figure dropped his hood.

  
Fuck, this man was gorgeous.

  
Moonlight melted against his dark skin, catching on his features, including the horns curving from his braided hair.

  
Piers thought to run but his legs wouldn’t respond. He thought to scream, but he couldn’t find strength enough in his voice to mutter anything but “Devil”.

  
The devil tilted his head and looked a little disappointed. “Please. Just call me Raihan. Devil makes me sound…evil.”

  
He snapped his fingers and the cloak around his shoulders flew off, through the darkness and draped itself over Piers’s shoulders with a weight that made him slump forward more than normal. With another snap, flames rose in the center of the clearing at Raihan’s command.

  
The flames burned bright enough to hurt Piers’s eyes, yet the heat was not hellfire. Perfectly warm, like the cloak he wore. But it was the smell on the cloak that made him dip further into this pool of damnation.

  
The fur lined cloak smelled of smoky wood and embers, like Raihan had walked through flame just to stand here before him.

  
“Am I dead?” Piers exhaled a shaking breath. The devil crept closer, his blue-jeweled eyes on Piers as though he were a target. He walked around, eying Piers like he was some fine prize.

  
“You? Dead? Far from it, pretty witch.” Raihan’s throaty laugh made Piers shiver from his shoulders down lower.

  
“Then what do ya want?”

  
Raihan stopped his pacing, a circle of singed leaves left behind in the dark, trapping Piers in place. He nudged the ash with the toe of his boot, to test if he could escape. He doubted he would get very far, but at least he didn’t catch fire.

  
“I want what every demon prince wants.” And Raihan extended his hands, as if to offer an embrace between good friends. “To strike a worthwhile deal.”

  
“And steal souls?” Piers raised a sharp brow as Raihan looked away with a sheepish grin, despite his curling ram-like horns.

  
Or perhaps they were the horns of a dragon. That suited him more.

  
“Well, I don’t give away my services for free. Nor are they cheap. I can’t force you into a pact but I suspect a clever witch like yourself—”

  
Piers snorted. That word again. No one would drop it. “I’m no witch. Sorry to disappoint ya, demon prince.”

  
Raihan thoughtfully stroked his chin, nails dipped in black. The wind blew harder when Piers spoke, as frustration bubbled inside. He couldn’t feel the cold through the cloak, though the inferno whipped angrily for a moment before returning to its spire shape.

  
“Not a witch, yet you don’t quiver before me,” Raihan mused, stepping forward. Leaves gave under his shiny shoes, each crunch turning to crumbling ash. He stopped, only when he stood in front of Piers, staring down at him. “You don’t fear the dark.”

  
“There are much worse things than darkness,” Piers replied. He had stopped shaking, his eyes fixed on Raihan’s handsome face. “And the things that bump in its shadows.”

  
Wolves howled in the distance again. Closer, farther. Impossible to tell if they heralded more demons and shadows or simply a realization of himself.

He understood the earth and listened to its whispers. He taught himself illusions with shadow puppets and cards to entertain others. He knew the properties of plants and stones, how to make potent elixirs and salves. Things the townsfolk couldn't understand and wouldn't bother to listen to. Things they instead deemed as evil.

  
“Not a witch,” Raihan repeated, lowering his voice, raising a hand to trace the lines of Piers’s face without ever touching him. Now he shuddered, feeling the heat emanate off Raihan’s fingers and body, imagining just what those fingers and body could do to his bare skin. Raihan’s words were for Piers, and him alone. “Then why am I so drawn to you?”

  
There was no answer Piers could give that would make sense.

  
“Because I don’t fear the dark,” Piers whispered. “Nor do I fear _you_ anymore.”

  
“Spoken like a true witch.” Raihan breathed the words and his body trembled, as if the thought brought him some twisted pleasure. Piers let his own cold eyes glaze over Raihan’s body and again he thought about what those demonic hands could do.

  
And how his own chilled fingers would feel on dark skin.

  
“All I want is for my sister to survive this winter,” Piers said. “Give me that and ya can have whatever is left of my soul.”

  
“Your sister? How selfless.”

  
“Never meet a givin’ witch?”

  
“I’ve never met a human who didn’t think of their own desires first,” Raihan said. He extended a hand, waiting. “I’ll accept your terms, in exchange for a soul.”

  
Piers stared at his hand, fingers tipped in black, as if he’d dipped them in ink, different from his dark oak skin. Charcoal, perhaps, leftover from the fires of Hell. He raised his own hand, let his fingers dance over Raihan’s palm without ever touching him. When he looked up, Raihan wore a frustrated grin on his face. As if ready to burst.

  
“Do ya wanna touch me that badly?” Piers whispered. Raihan’s grin grew wild and he licked his lips. 

  
“I can’t touch you unless I have permission,” Raihan hungrily growled. “We demons understand consent better than most humans.”

  
“Charmin’,” Piers said. “What if I asked ya to burn down a town as well? You look pretty eager to get your hands on me, I think you’ll do whatever I want.”

  
Raihan laughed and for a moment, Piers was thrown. The demon prince could leave whenever but he never did. The fire erupted brighter until returning to its size, along with Raihan’s calm chuckling.

  
“I’ve never met such a bold human,” Raihan said, leaning in again. The blood rushed in Piers’s wrists and he stepped back, just far enough to shrug the heavy cloak off his thin shoulders.

  
Then he started at the buttons of his vest and the ties on his shirt. Raihan devoured the sight of him stripping.

  
“Trust me,” Piers said, letting his clothes fall, piece by piece, the chill of the night prickling his skin. He’d read the stories, as much as scriptures. Demons wanted one thing besides souls. And if Piers was losing his, why not make the best of it. “You ain’t ever meetin’ another human, or witch, like me again.”

  
His trousers and boots joined his clothes on the ground. Standing nude in a forest at midnight, bathing in moonlight in front of a demon prince somehow felt more natural than sitting in a pulpit. He felt charged and wild, like he could run through the woods with those wolves without the cold bothering him.

Maybe he could.

  
He ran his hands through his hair, first to push it back, then turned his gaze to Raihan. And held it. Let his hair fall as his fingers trailed over his skin, over pert nipples and lower. Raihan watched his every move, leaning in as close as he could without touching because touching was not allowed.

  
Piers knew he hadn’t been born with magic, but whatever he had now had enchanted a demon prince and brought him to his knees. Ashes rose around Raihan as he gazed up at Piers, mouth a breath away from his thighs. And begging, with those teal eyes.

  
With a gentle hand, and cautious fingers, Piers dared to caress Raihan’s full lips.

  
The flames of the inferno felt cold compared to his skin, that burned like the pit. The wind stopped and a cloud covered the moon, engulfing them in darkness as the protective spell surrounding Piers, that surrounded every human, broke.

  
And Raihan leaned into the touch.

  
“My sweet witch—”

  
“—Piers. My name is Piers.”

  
“Piers.” Raihan tested the name on his tongue, as he leaned forward to taste Piers’s flesh. He flicked a hot tongue at Piers’s half-hard cock and the bold resolve that put Raihan on his knees shattered. “Make my night on this earthly realm worth it.”

  
Wings unfurled from Raihan’s back, black as the night sky. Against the blaze, Piers saw their clear shape; leathery, horned at the tips. Wings of a dragon.

  
Piers landed on his back without the pain of falling. He gazed at the sky as moonlight broke clouds and curled his fingers into the cloak under him. The ground didn’t feel lumpy as it should with rocks and limbs and earth, just an even surface.

  
Then he felt the warm grasp of hands on his thighs, making their way up his body. Hands that explored his skin while carefully ignoring his aching cock. Hands that spread his compliant legs and grabbed his waist.

  
Opening his eyes, he looked at Raihan over him. The demon had shed his clothes, revealing an impressive body. And a cock that worried him more than losing his soul. Hell, that thing would probably push it out of him.

  
Raihan tapped Piers’s chin, distracting him from, and caught his lips in kiss.

  
He was surprisingly gentle, for a demon. Piers had expected teeth and fire, but Raihan kissed him slowly, eliciting low moans from Piers’s throat.  
Piers opened his mouth first, wrapped his arms around Raihan’s broad shoulders. Raihan snaked an arm around him, pressing their chests together and Piers ground his hips up. 

  
He whimpered at the roll of Raihan’s cock against his own, legs already trembling. His own precum smeared against his stomach, both cocks, at his greedy hips.

  
“Impatient, aren’t you?” Raihan said, toying with a pink nipple. Piers squirmed.

  
“Haven’t really had a proper fuckin’ in a while,” Piers breathed. “Sorry if—ahh—I’m forward.”

  
Hot fingers made thinking a challenge. And Raihan pulled them away to use his hotter mouth, sucking Piers’s nipple until he left it red. Biting delicate skin until he left imprints of teeth. He slipped his hand down Piers’s stomach, over his thigh. Piers thought he would faint from Raihan’s hot skin.

  
Then came the slow prod of Raihan’s finger against his hole and a slick he hadn’t seen Raihan use. But fuck where he got it from, the man was a demon.

  
A little bit of oil to fuck on was easy when you stole souls.

  
That first finger slid in with ease and Piers pushed his hips into Raihan’s hand, wanting that finger as deep as possible. Raihan switched to his other nipple, adding a second finger. Then a third.

  
Three fingers deep and Raihan started thrusting them in earnest. 

  
He could cum like this. Finger fucked by a demon under moonlight, moaning into the night as loud as he wanted because who could hear?

  
Raihan jerked out his fingers and Piers gasped, feeling wet and open. His body twitched as Raihan grabbed his leg, repositioning himself and angling his cock.

  
“Fuck, yes,” Piers breathed. His body shuddered and he grabbed his legs, spreading himself in such an obscene way he swore he saw a dark flush on Raihan’s cheeks. “Fuck your witch.”

  
“My witch?” Raihan mused, lining up the head of his cock to Piers’s ass. He slapped his dick against Piers’s hole before pressing forward. “Be careful with your words. I’m still a demon.”

  
Demon or not, Piers threw his head back, grabbing the cloak as he took in every burning inch. Raihan buried himself to the hilt, slowly ground his hips. Each little twist of his hips made Piers gasp for air. Raihan’s demon cock felt good. The sort of good worth selling your soul for.

  
“Fuck,” Raihan breathed, starting to move his hips, finding a rhythm. “That is good.”

  
His thrusting grew rough, quick slides in and out that left Piers burning from inside. He thought Raihan would split him in two, pounding his ass so hard it left him breathless. The infernal oil Raihan used left them wet. Slick and noisy.

  
Piers stopped holding his legs apart to push himself up on his elbows, just enough to watch Raihan’s cock slamming into his body. Enough to see his legs slick and shiny. To see Raihan’s strong hands digging bruises into his small waist.

  
Raihan suddenly grabbed him by the jaw, leaning forward and kissing him. Sharp teeth grazed Piers’s lips but he was the one to bite. Raihan inhaled through his nose, slowing his rhythm to a grind, and pulled back. Saliva connected their swollen lips until Piers tongued his away.

  
“Turn over.” Raihan’s command was sharp. And so was the way he jerked out his cock, leaving Piers gaping and gasping.

  
Raihan snarched his hips, flipping him onto his stomach. Piers caught on fast. He pushed his ass into the air, spreading his legs enough to put his empty hole on display. With a flip of his hair, he looked over his shoulder.

  
“I’ll be blessed,” Raihan groaned, massaging Piers’s ass, spreading him again. “Maybe you’re really not like other humans.”

  
“I already told ya.”

  
That earned him a hard slap to the ass that would leave a bruise. Then a breath, hotter than the inferno, as Raihan pressed his lips to his hole.

  
Then his tongue.

  
Piers’s legs shook and his head fell into the crook of his arm. The demon prince swirled his tongue, making a mess of his hole, then reached around to thumb Piers’s cock. 

  
“Ahh…Raihan…” Piers panted into his arm as Raihan teased the slit, precum pouring over his fingers. He didn’t stop with his tongue fucking and it was too much. Piers tried to press back into Raihan’s face while thrusting into his hand and the split sensation drove him mad. “I can’t—I’m gonna cum—fuck!”

  
He spilled over onto Raihan’s fingers, his hips stuttering erratically for purchase. Moans mixed with screams while Raihan drained his cock, steadily playing with the head until it hurt.

  
But fuck it was good.

  
So fucking good.

  
“Raihan please—” Piers squirmed, trying to push Raihan off his cock but the demon lord laughed, pulling away from his ass.

  
“Sorry,” Raihan whispered, leaning over him. Piers felt his breath against his shoulder blades, sending his body into overwhelming shudders. “Oh, you are a pretty witch.”

  
Piers felt him line his cock back up with his ass and sink into that slicked up heat.

  
Raihan sat back up, grabbing Piers by the waist with one hand and tangling the other in long hair. Having his hair pulled, his back forced into an arch so his pert ass stuck up felt rough. Possessive. Dominating.

  
And Piers didn’t want Raihan to stop.

  
He’d already come and he wanted to be fucked right through his high. 

  
Raihan obliged, snapping his hips back into a pounding rhythm. Piers opened bleary eyes, looking at the forest and dark shadows dancing on trees. They didn’t bother him with a demon prince balls deep in him.

  
“Fuck Piers,” Raihan breathed. “I’m going to cum—”

Piers felt his twitching cock inside, then the hot spill of his orgasm. Each thrust was wetter than the last as Raihan emptied deep in Piers’s body, burning every inch. His pounding lost its steady rhythm as his hips repeatedly stuttered.

A final groan escaped Raihan, his hips coming to a slow stop. Piers felt his hot hands on his back, then his chest press against his skin. Raihan left kisses along Piers’s spine and shoulders, pulling out. Cum ran down Piers’s legs in messy streams.

They both collapsed on the cloak. Raihan rolled onto his side while Piers remained on his stomach, catching his breath. He pulled his hair off his neck, watching Raihan carefully.

Would the demon prince devour his soul now? Or would it be in his later years of life?

“What happens now?” Piers still felt hazy from his own orgasm while fearing what would come. Raihan opened an eye, then that taunting grin spread back across his face that left Piers uneasy.

Raihan pulled him close, by the waist, then let his hand slip lower. A whimper escaped Piers’s throat as Raihan ran his fingers over his ass and between his legs, smearing cum over his skin. His hole still throbbed but the touch reignited the desire that lay so close to the surface.

“You make it sound like we’re done.”

A shudder made its way down Piers’s body as Raihan pushed him on to his side, looming over him. Piers glanced at the demon’s half-hard cock.

“I…I dunno know if I can…again—”

Raihan kissed him, slowly, when he expected intensity. A chance to breathe, exploring each other’s mouths now that their heads were cleared from lust. Raihan rested a hand on Piers’s hip as Piers wrapped an arm around his shoulders, daring to hold him close. He saw the shadows of Raihan’s wings, carefully resting behind him, a reminder than this man was absolutely no man. Their legs intertwined and Raihan’s cock rested against Piers’s stomach, leaving a messy trail of cum.

Slowly, Piers’s body reacted to the touch and the hard cock against him. And to Raihan’s hand moving back between his legs.

He pushed a finger in and Piers’s gasp broke their kiss.

“You’re not bad for a human, pretty witch,” Raihan growled. “I may keep you around a little longer.”

“Am I— _ahh fuck—_ ” A second finger slipped into his wet hole and Piers bit his lip. “Am I that good?”

Raihan slowly rolled his fingers and Piers felt each digit, each slow twist. “You’ve surprised me. And it takes quite a bit to surprise me.”

His words were oddly reassuring. 

“Do ya like me, your highness?”

A third finger joined the others and Piers’s lashes fluttered.

“Enough to bargain further,” Raihan said. “I’m greedy. I want this tight hole for me. And _only_ me.”

Piers hadn’t expected his words, nor a fourth finger. 

“Fuck,” Piers cried. His eyes went bleary as Raihan fingered him. Cum still slicked his insides, probably covering Raihan’s fingers.

The sound was wet. So wet.

“And if anyone puts their hands on you, I want them to burn.”

No one had ever wanted him like that. Made him feel desired and wanted. This could all be pretty demon lies and Piers had no way of knowing. But Raihan made it sound as good as it felt.

He curled his fingers and whatever happened, Piers yelped. Raihan took hold of something inside that turned Piers’s thoughts to blinding lights and numbing pleasure. He dug his nails so deep into Raihan’s bicep that blood ran over his dark skin.

“Say my name when you cum this time,” Raihan commanded, keeping his fingers curled as he jerked his hand around. “I want to hear you _scream_.”

With shaking legs and a tightness building in his core, Piers could barely think, much less speak. But his lips managed to take form as he came undone.

“R-Raihan—fuck, _Raihan_ — _RAIHAN!_ _”_

Cum splattered his stomach for the second time that night, Raihan fingering him until he pleaded to stop. Until tears streamed down his face from the pleasure. With a kiss, Raihan pulled out his fingers. Piers fell back against the ground, mind spinning in flaming red and demonic teal. Gentle fingers stroked his cheek and light kisses adorned his eyes, his lips, his neck, his nipples.

Piers snatched Raihan by a horn. “Do not stick anything back in me. I won’t be able to walk.”

The demon laughed, shaking free of Piers’s light grip. “You’re telling me not to do something?”

It wasn’t a full threat, but he had an edge to his tone. Something dangerous and Piers thought to chase it, push it, see how far he could _really_ go. The retaliation would be mind-blowing, but he had strong doubt his body could handle it.

If the demon prince wanted to hang around, perhaps he’d test it another day.

“You’ve been generous,” Piers said, pushing himself up, a hand pressed to Raihan’s chest. He let his fingers drop, trailing down a firm chest and stomach, to the hair at the base of that imposing cock. “Give your pretty witch a chance to serve.”

Raihan raised a brow, adjusted himself. That sharp edge melted as Piers knelt on all fours, pulling his hair from his face and over a shoulder. He kept his ass up, lowering his head to press lips to Raihan’s swollen cock.

He wrapped his fingers around the base, sucking the head, gaining low moans. And when he pressed his tongue to the slit, Raihan’s body grew rigid. He tasted precum like fire, pulling back enough to smear it across his lips and gaze up at Raihan.

The demon chewed his bottom lip with desire in his eyes.

Holding eye contact, the flames still raging behind them, Piers sank down on his cock. As far as he could, then pushed Raihan’s cock deep into his throat. Until his nose touched the hairs at the base and Raihan moaned out loud.

Making a demon prince lose himself with just his mouth made Piers moan. He slowly raised his head, sank back down, imitating the way he’d been fucked earlier. With just his throat, eyes turned up to hold Raihan’s gaze in his own aggressive dominance.

With fluttering wings, Raihan spread his legs, thrusting once before letting out a guttural noise. Piers felt the hot spill of cum down his throat and pulled back. He swallowed what he could, the rest leaving a mess on his tongue, his lips, down his chin.

Raihan snatched him by the jaw, pulling him up and catching his mouth in the messiest kiss he’d ever had. Piers wrapped his arms around Raihan, shoving his tongue into the demon’s mouth as if he were in control of the kiss.

Maybe he was.

It didn’t matter.

Not under moonlight, in the arms of a demon with a fire blazing behind them.

~~

_Keep your soul, my pretty witch. My Piers. You_ _’ve entertained me for the night._

_And I doubt it_ _’ll be our last._

Piers felt his skin prickle as kisses graced his shoulder and arm. Though when he turned, nothing—no one—was there.

Morning rose in the forest, a thin veil of mist on the ground. Piers rubbed his eyes, taking in his surroundings.

Was it all a dream? An incredibly wet dream? A hallucination? Had he slipped and hit his head?

He groped around for his clothes because he was naked. Maybe he’d just stripped and danced so long under moonlight he exhausted himself.

Or maybe…

He touched the decadent cloak he’d fallen asleep on. Then looked at the burnt remains of a fire, the bruises on his hips and thighs, and the mark on his chest.

The shape of a dragon’s head marked his skin, along the hard bone. He pressed his fingers against it, tracing the shape and the memory it held.

Leaves rustled and he grew alert as bushes separated. But no human walked through the brush.

“Spec?”

The horse he’d known so well, could recognize anywhere, shook its mane as he came closer. His horse, but alive and different. The grey mane that had been so dingy, now flowed a pale shade of lavender with legs that faded to violet hooves. Wisps of phantom smoke rose with each step.

Piers stumbled to his feet, still naked, the air cold but not uncomfortable. 

Spec whinnied with a strong voice, a toss of his mane. Piers pressed a hand to his nose and Spec nuzzled him back.

_Keep your soul, but you_ _’ll never be in need again._

A kiss brushed his shoulder and he smiled.

~~

Piers rode back on Spec, unsure of what he’d tell Marnie. He couldn’t exactly share what he’d done and he had no way to explain Spec, nor the incredible set of clothes he now wore. He was unsure if he’d taken the wrong turn because while he knew the wilds, this particular plot of land looked drastically different than where they’d settled.

No longer a barren waste, but lush, even for winter. Grass grew in the cold and he passed by a field flourishing with vegetation. Even trees with hanging fruit. He dismounted from Spec, guiding him by the reigns as he stared at the cottage.

Now a true cabin.

It wasn’t the shabby thing they’d hastily built for shelter. It looked sturdy and welcoming and warm. The barn in the back was built the same, the yard filled with lively animals. Their animals. Up and running and fine, including—

“Phil come back here!”

Piers looked up as Marnie chased after the old ram. Laughing.

She stopped when she caught sight of him, changing her path to the fence. She bounded over it, wearing the nicest dress he’d ever seen. Simple and easy to move around in but made with the same attention and care as the governor’s wife’s dresses.

“What…happened?” Piers muttered. She shrugged.

“I woke up and this was in my trunk instead of my other dress. And a lot of other clothes. And the house was different and all our animals not sick…,” she gestured at everything then stuck her hands in the pockets of her apron, producing a handful of eggs. “Chickens haven’t laid eggs in the longest.”

Piers looked around at everything again. Nothing had been missed. Clouds still hung in the sky, dark grey and casting shadows, but he no longer feared for their survival.

Marnie stroked Spec’s nose. “Was it your magic?”

“W-What?”

She smiled. “I know you’re not…a real witch but I’ve always thought…Not that ya have evil magic but just that ya can do anythin’, ya know? I think it’s…nice.”

She really thought…he could do anything?

Piers pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close. He couldn’t do anything but he could protect her. 

“I’m a witch,” Piers said. “Because you’re fine with it.”

She hugged him back. Held him. “Good. Because I made my first potion tea and I can’t wait to share.”

~~

The winter had been harsh. Enough that Judge Rose rode through frost to hunt.

His own rations ran low, too fast. And some of the meat had spoiled even though it had been properly salted. His crops wilted. The grain, molded. Whatever curse had befallen his home ran deep.

Now he had to hunt, try to, or risk starving.

He caught sight of something beyond the trees, moving easily over the snow. Rose crouched, stepped forward. His rustling drew in the deer’s attention and it darted. Without thought, purely desperate, Rose leapt forward and raised his musket to shoot.

And stopped.

Rose's breath escaped him as he gazed upon the rider, draped in black. The phantom horse snorted, harsh fog rising from its nostrils as its hooves, barely visible, hit the ground.

"P-Please...spare me..."

The deer had been a decoy. Death now stared at him. His time had come. He tried to mutter a prayer, anything to calm himself. Thought of what he could use to barter for his life. His home? Money? His wife?

The rider lowered their hood and Rose's stomach dropped.

"Spare ya?" Piers laughed. "As if I'd bother killin’ ya."

Rose stared, his stomach hitting the ground. The winter had been harsh, more than usual, yet Piers, this wretch of a witch, thrived. Radiant skin and hair that cascaded down his back, the finest clothes Rose had ever seen. He even had a bag filled with deep purple carrots. Fresh. Nothing grew in his plot of land in Wyndon yet this banished witch had survived.

No. He just... _lived_.

"What business do ya have with the Witch of the Wild Area?" Piers asked.

Witch of the Wild Area. A title he'd no doubt given himself. Rose sneered. “How dare you address me—”

“And how dare ya interrupt my ride,” Piers said. He got down from his horse, plucking a carrot from the bag. His phantom beast whinnied and devoured the carrot in his hand. “How are my parents?”

“Frostbite,” Rose said through his teeth. Piers shrugged.

“Shame. Exact opposite of burnin’.”

A furious hate boiled inside Rose. How could this witch not care? And how could he be so damn beautiful while he, a judge, suffered?

“You walk with the devil,” Rose spat, pointing a finger.

“He’s fucked me too—”

“You should have burned!” Rose shouted. “I should have sentenced you to burning.”

Piers tilted his head, his hair bunching against his shoulder with an elegance too gentle for the cold. He toyed with a pendant that hung around his neck, piece of silver resembling a dragon.

“I’ve walked through fire,” Piers said. “You’ll have to try a little harder to scare me.”

That was it. Rose had grown too tired of his snark. His mighty attitude. The witch should be on his knees, begging _him_ for help. Rose threw down his gun and ran at Piers with outstretched hands. If he couldn’t be happy, then what right did the vile witch have?

Piers gasped but did not move. Rose caught his skinny throat in a vice grip, felt the fine bone against his calloused fingers.

And felt a heat, like he’d grabbed white hot metal. A shade covered them, black as midnight with a noise akin to a heavy wingbeat.

Rose screamed, pulling back his hands. He expected burns, bubbling blisters on his fingers. But when he looked at his aching hands, he saw cracks, red underneath like the first layer of wood being burned in a fire. His skin flaked and fell to the snow, melting it to little pools at his feet.

“W-What are you?!” Rose screamed. Piers flicked a finger at his hand, and Rose watched his thumb crumble to ash.

“What am I?” Piers leaned forward, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “I am Piers, the Witch of the Wilds.”

Snow crunched under boots and the shadow behind him came into view but all Rose could make out were wings. And horns.

“And this witch ain’t gonna burn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween and a blessed Samhain readers!!  
> Follow me on twitter @porgatine for general shitposts and writing ramblings!


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